Clouded
by MischievousCuriosity
Summary: After Sirius's death, Harry tries to join Sirius and his parents in the afterlife. But Fate is not about to let her favorite go so easily, and decides to add a little twist to Harry's death and subsequent resurrection.


Prologue: Clouded

**What is up with me lately? I had NO inspiration what-so-ever until I started writing HP fics. Guess the plot bunnies have it out for me…**

**This is just something I came up with during class. I was fogging up my glasses over and over again, and then this idea just popped into my head. WARNING: Brief over-emotional/suicidal Harry. May contain character death. I know it's another HP one, but that's all I can seem to write right now (stupid bunnies).**

**DISCLAIMER: How many times can I say it? Look, I'll even have one of the characters do it for me-**

**Snape: Do it yourself, you insolent little brat!**

**MC: Why you- *smacks Snape with a newspaper***

**-PLEASE EXCUSE US, WE'RE EXPERIENCING TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES-**

**So, um, yeah… That didn't go too well, did it? Oh well… I still don't own HP, by the way.**

**888888**

Harry crouched on the cold stone floor of the Department of Mysteries, tears carving delicate, glistening trails down his cheeks.

Had anyone seen him, they would have been painfully reminded of a mourning fallen angel; given a taste of heaven before being cast out, for some reason he didn't understand.

Harry couldn't remember how he got there, on that hard stone floor, in the Death Chamber of the Ministry's most secretive Department– the very place of his beloved godfather's death– but that didn't matter.

His thoughts did, however.

_Sirius is dead. Sirius is dead. Oh dear Merlin, Sirius is dead…_

Harry wondered morbidly if it was assisted suicide if he killed himself with Sirius in mind.

Sirius wouldn't have wanted it, but he was gone, and no one else would really care.

Now didn't _that _feel like a punch to the gut.

None of the friends he made in life were true. Except for Remus, Sirius, and Hermione. Yes, he would miss _them. _All the others were fakes, people who latched onto him for money or fame. _My life itself,_ Harry laughed dryly, _was nothing more than an intricately woven, highly thought-out lie. _

To be truthful, it didn't really surprise him.

_Gone, dead. Lord, not Sirius, not Sirius, no **please**…_

It was his fault.

Sirius would have been alive if it wasn't for him, his failure to do Occlumacy, and Voldemort. Some deep, vindictive part of him wanted to blame the whole thing on Snape (him being the horrible teacher that he was) and Voldemort, but he couldn't bring himself to. He could have tried harder, paid more attention, done _something…_

There was always something.

Everything always boiled down to him. Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Always-Messed-Things-Up. His fault.

_Maybe I'm just as useless as Vernon always said. Maybe he was right, and my 'freakiness' should have been beaten out of me… At least Sirius would still be alive._

Harry's mind was set. There was not much for him to live for anymore, and whatever happiness was left was quickly being devoured by the Dementor-like darkness that clouded his brain and wrapped around his heart, caressing those last remnants of love before devouring them.

_I'm coming for you Sirius. You and Mum and Dad and all the wonderful people who died in this bloody war. I'm going to love and feel again, and live life like I was supposed to the first time._

Harry settled himself so that his back was resting against the unforgiving floor. He thought of Sirius's crooked smile, Remus's hugs, Hermione glaring at him playfully over the cover of an old, dusty volume, and the warm feeling he got whenever someone mentioned his mother. The familiar silver stag appeared and trotted over to him, hooves making no noise on the smooth stone. It nudged Harry's cheek with a soft, warm muzzle.

"Hey Prongs." Harry smiled, eyes dark and wistful in the comforting presence of the deer. "I need you to go tell Remus and Hermione that I love them, and that this was my choice, all right?" Prongs pushed his nose into Harry's hair and snorted, worry clear in his eyes. Prongs acted more like Harry's familiar sometimes, rather than a simple Patronus.

"Go on, I'll see you later." Prongs eyed him warily, before walking gracefully to the door. He twisted his neck to look at Harry sadly, and then bounded away with a flash of light.

Harry sighed and held his wand close. In the past, it had been his most treasured possession. His friend. His savior. And now, his murder weapon.

Harry turned the holly and phoenix wand upon himself. Funny, really, how two signs of rebirth could lead to his death. He pulled something out of his pocket and glanced at it, before muttering his final piece of magic with a small smile on his face.

"_Cultrum."_

What poor, lovely Harry failed to realize was that, as Fate's favorite whipping boy, one does not escape life so easily.

And so, it was with a heavy heart that Fate set about the return of one of her children. Ancient magic seeped through the room, settling among the high-arching rafters and condensing, like the mist that curled around the highest turrets of Hogwarts on early mornings. The magic then spread out, focusing on certain elements of the scene. The tendrils of magic altered these as Fate wished...

The stage was set.

A steady trickle of blood stained the Veil's whispering curtain... an unknown instrument fell from a high shelf, cracking in the process and spilling some deep, shining substance into Harry's life essence... a stray Dementor glided by, rattling breath stirring the swirling black-red pool...

Later, when Unspeakables crashed into the room, chasing after the rogue Dementor, they would find only a shred of the Dementor's cloak stained in their Chosen One's blood (which alone was an alarming discovery) and the knife conjured by Harry. Remus and Hermione would stumble in moments later, only to find one of the Unspeakables holding a picture, on which a note was written. Wide-eyed, the man read the message before hurrying to the floo to contact Dumbledore and Fudge. They would need to be informed of this...

Remus read, then froze. He was too slow to snatch back the picture when Hermione plucked it from his fingers, he was unable to shield her from this harsh reality...

Harry was dead.

Hermione finished reading Harry's script– the same sharp, spiked scrawl she was so used to seeing on homework assignments, friendly letters, and humorous notes passed during History– and began sobbing uncontrollably. This soon transformed into screams, cries of denial, of anger, of a burning hatred towards whatever deity was cold enough to burden her best friend– nearly her _brother_– with such a load.

Somewhere far away, tucked deeply between two plains of existence, Fate flinched. "My dear, do not despair... AHe shall be returned to you soon enough..."

**888888**

The picture of the Marauders and Lily Potter fluttered from Harry's jerking fingers to the ground, face down. There, etched on the finger print smudged back of the photograph, was a message.

_My vision was clouded by love._

_Don't make the same mistake._

_Finish what I started._

_Kill Him for me._

**888888**

A cloud of magic swirled into form; a shimmering woman. She peered sadly into the bowl of foggy water, which cleared to show Harry's relaxing face.

"Oh, my poor, dearly mistaken Harry. I am inescapable, but for you to experience so much pain is hard to endure… I shall give you a choice Young One, yes…" Fate smiled and rearranged the cloths draped around her. She lost form again, on her way to intercept Death and ask for a favor. He wouldn't be happy…

But her Favorite may be.

"Your story is not over yet, Harry Potter…" The light whisper floated through the room like mist, before settling into the scrying bowl.

And this was the last thing Harry heard, before being carried away into Death's waiting arms.

**888888**

**Well, wasn't that uplifting! Now, I have a rough idea for the plot, but I'm totally open to suggestions. As a matter of fact, I have a question for you all: Do you want this to be time travel, super!Harry, my unknown option (shh! It's a secret!), or your own suggestion? There will probably be a survey on my account, or you can put it in a review/PM. You can also vote on a pairing. Anything is fine.  
**

**Oh, and "cultrum" loosely translates into Latin as "knife." Kinda messy, but I figured that if Harrycouldn't manage to cast an Unforgivable the first time, why on himself?  
**

**Anywho, I'm looking forward to writing for all you peeps out there!**

**Though flames are warm and toasty, they burn paper and therefore are not appreciated near my work, thank you.**

**-MC**


End file.
